Sparky and Sweetness
by Miss Faber
Summary: A series of Zutara drabbles and one-shots. Prompts and requests will be taken on my tumblr, or through private messaging. Rating will be changed if smut is posted. Enjoy!
1. Realization

_A/N_: This is whereI'll be posting my responses to Zutara requests I recieve on my tumblr- so welcome to the place where you can read horribly disconnected, tragic, smutty, and/or silly Zutara drabbles. Enjoy your stay.

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**Prompt: Realization**

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Night had long since fallen, and the Ember Island home breathed in sleep. Zuko lay in his bed, wide awake, thinking.

Somehow, it had managed to elude him. It was true that Zuko hadn't been a part of the group for very long, but he'd spent so much time with the members of the Gaang over the past few weeks that it truly amazed him how long it took to realize it.

Katara was addicted to body heat.

She lay now by his side, her head pillowed by his arm. The line of her side fit snugly against his, the soles of her feet resting against his ankles. Zuko was shirtless- she preferred it that way- but Katara was fully clothed.

It had started a while ago, instigated by the waterbender. He didn't know how in the world he agreed- the details were fuzzy- but somehow they'd fallen into this unorthodox sleeping pattern. Their companionship only existed at night, and only by need; hers for heat and comfort, and his for trust and forgiveness. During the day, they were less than friends.

He felt her stir awake beside him. He stiffened slightly; conversation wasn't routine.

Bleary blue eyes met alert gold. "Zuko."

He nodded in response. "Katara."

She yawned. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Zuko attempted to shrug while her head was resting on his arm. "Thinking," he replied succintly.

She nodded, accepting his small explanation. Each passing day, he owed her less and less.

For a few minutes, only silent breathing filled the air. Then: "How long has it been?"

Katara turned her head to him, bit her lip. "Twenty two nights."

His eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected a precise answer. "You've been counting?"

"Of course," she answered, as though no explanation was warranted. And he supposed that in their warped situation, a rational explanation wasn't even possible.

He felt Katara turn her head so that her face was buried in the crook of his neck, felt her inhale. A while ago, this would have struck him as strange. Now, it was completely normal.

"You smell nice," she mumbled.

Zuko's hand stroked the bare skin of her arm, once. "You smell nice, too." He'd memorized her scent; she smelled like berries and fresh air.

"I hate you," he heard her whisper.

He felt a pang of hurt in his chest, but kept his expression neutral. "Why do you hate me?"

Her hand landed on his bare chest. "Because I'll never be able to sleep without you."

Zuko's hand traced the curve of her body, then fell into her hair. "It's still not morning," he told her quietly. "You can get a few more hours of sleep."

He felt her lips curl into a smile on his neck. "I guess you're not completely heartless."

Zuko chuckled. "I guess I'm not."

Eventually, Katara's breathing evened out as she succumbed once again to sleep. Zuko's hand absentmindedly stroked her hair. It was an odd arrangement, he decided, but it was one he didn't particularily mind.


	2. Tragedy

**Prompt: Tragedy**

_A/N: _Written from Zuko's point of view. Please review!

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There are three stages to a tragedy; at least, that's what Uncle tells me. The event, the denying of the event, and then the reprecussions. He says that acceptance is inevitable, that it is as natural as the pain and rage that tragedy entails. I don't believe him.

I didn't meant for it to happen the way it did. I didn't meant for it to happen at all.

We had been fighting. Banter was a regular part of our day, but this was different; this was accusations and tears and uncontrolled bending. Katara drenched me. I burned the curtains. Still yelling over her shoulder, she slammed the door of our Ember Island home pointedly and moved away, surely blinded by the rain.

"Katara!" I yelled after her, still seething, but worried despite my anger. It was dark, and the pouring rain didn't help matters much. "Get back in the house!"

"Go away!" I heard her reply, muffled by the distance between us. I lost sight of her. Panicked, I moved away from the shelter of the open doorway and braved the weather.

"Katara!" I yelled again. I could see her slim form running down the length of the beach. I raced after her, determined to stop her before she hurt herself; Agni knew she was anything but rational when she was angry.

I called after her again, but she ignored me, turning sharply and starting to claw her way up the rocks that closed the area off from the rest of the public beach, creating a private beach for Ty Lee. She continued climbing, barefooted and wearing nothing but a nearly sheer nightgown that now clung to her body.

"Get down from there!" I roared. She looked over her shoulder once, eyes cold, before continuing her steady progress.

I ran faster, determined to reach her; _she'll hurt herself, she'll hurt herself, Agni, no_.

I cursed underneath my breath as I reached the bottom of the rocks. She had reached the very top of the cliff now, her face was turned up to the rain.

"Katara!" I tried again, my hand grabbing the first jagged end my hands found and hoisting myself up. The rocks were cool underneath my hands. "Stay there! I'll come get you!"

"I don't need your help!" she yelled, moving out of my line of sight. "I never did!"

"Wait there!" Panic was laced into my hoarse voice.

"No! I'm done with the way you talk about the-"

Her sentence broke off with a piercing shriek, and it was a solid minute before I realized it was hers.

"No!" I scrabbled up the cliffs quicker, numb to my bleeding fingers and the jagged rocks that clawed at my uprotected skin. Her frightened cry still rung in my ears, and _oh _Agni_ why can't I see her_?

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the top of the cliff. My head swung wildly from side to side, trying to see through the curtain of rain.

She wasn't there.

I barely registered myself swallowing as I moved to the other end of the cliff and looked down. _There she is_, my churning stomach told me- _splayed on a jagged rock, unconscious, because of you._

"Katara!" I roared, scrabbling my way down the rocks, hardly seeing anything through the sudden red haze. My breath was quick ad I fell a few times, but was hardly deterred- she's not moving, she's not moving, she's not-

"Katara," I breathed as I reached her. At this proximity I found her head tossing back and forth. She's alive. I placed a hand on her shoulder; she whimpered sharply and pulled away.

"My Lord?" I looked over the side of the rocks; servants.

"Get a healer! Now!" I roared.

I turned back to Katara, hands moving of their own accord to cup her face. "Talk to me!" I gasped.

"Zuko…." She hissed, her body stiffening.

"Tell me where it hurts," I demanded, my own voice ringing in my ears. Every second that the healer wasn't here felt like hours.

"My… stomach.." she panted. My heart stopped. Internal bleeding was practically a mystery to medical science. _No. Agni. Please_. She groaned softly and started to roll over, and I shook my head frantically.

"You're not supposed to move." It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

"But it hurts…." She gave out a sharp scream and rolled over on her side, curling into a fetal position. I felt the blood drain from my face.

"'Tara," I whispered fervently, mind in a panic. "Hold on. The healers are coming."

"I'm sorry…" Despite the raindrops on her face, I was certain she was crying. "Please… forgive me."

I shook my head wildly. "No. Don't… don't apologize. I wronged you. I should be begging you…" My voice trailed off as she gave out another sharp hiss.

My eyes widened, and I suddenly despised myself for my lack of knowledge of the human anatomy. "Is something broken?"

She whimpered as her hands travelled to her stomach; then went even lower, disappearing between her legs. My brow furrowed; I had only seen this type of behavior when she was suferring cramps during her monthly cycle.

"Let me see." Carefully, I pried her legs open, rubbing her arm soothingly with one hand while the other reached between her tightly clamped legs. I felt unmistakeable liquid against my fingers; had she wet herself? Puzzled, I drew my hand out from between her legs; and although the rain immediately washed it away, it wasn't before I saw the unmistakeable crimson of blood.

* * *

Blood pounded in my temples as I stood on the balcony, clad in dry robes. It was almost morning, and the healers had been with Katara all night. The cries that wafted towards me from the bedroom tortured me. I closed my eyes tightly and prayed to Agni for the umpeenth time, senseless prayers that called for everything and nothing at all.

I heard a shift behind me and whipped around. The healer on the edge of the balcony. "Fire Lord Zuko."

I didn't bother with formalities. "Katara?"

He nodded, understanding. "Your wife shows no damages besides scrapesand bruises. She is very lucky."

"Then why did she-"

The healer held up a hand. "I'm not finished. She's fine, a few days of bedrest is all the healing she needs. The baby, however…." He sighed. "I'm sorry for your loss."

My stomach dropped. "The… baby?"

His eyes widened. "You… were not aware of it, my Lord?"

I shook my head, mute.

"Uh. Well, there's-" I held up a hand, silencing him. After a minute of staring him down, the healer bowed and returned to the house, grumbling to himself.

I stared off into the morning, blood pounding in my veins. It was a few moments before my gaze gew blurry, tainted by the sudden grief. I felt a sudden lump in my throat and tried to swallow it; I buried my head in my hands, ignoring the morning.

* * *

The denying of the event. Katara didn't speak to me for days. I tried coaxing her out of her self-imposed shell with kindness and gentle words; but eventually, the familiar rage won out. It was my baby, too.

_Were you ever going to tell me? Was it ever going to matter? Why? Why not?_

_Will it ever stop hurting?_

Sometimes, she was as inapproachable as the topic itself. Sometimes, she was wanton and needy and it was in those times that we held onto each other as a drowning man holds grasps a drifting log. My own moods fluctuated just as rapidly.

One day, she refused to let me touch her; she rejected my palms, my lips, the pads of my fingers. I realized that acceptance was not as natural as pain and rage. Acceptance was as slippery as an eel-viper, as tangible as air. And for me, it had disappeared with the blood that the rain had washed away from my fingers. For Katara… well. Perhaps it had never existed.


	3. Scars

**Prompt: Scars**

_A/N: _Angsty. And I adore this drabble for some reason.

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Katara isn't particularily surprised when she stirs awake and finds the space beside her empty.

After a brief moment- in which her heart swelled with the slight hope that maybe _this_ was the dream, and she'd truly open her eyes a second later and Zuko would be there, warm and solid beside her- Katara rises from the bed, tugging the edges of her silk kimono closer to her frame.

She finds him in the bathroom, standing shirtless before the wall length mirror.

"Again?"

Zuko does not turn at the sound of her voice, but his hands fall from his abdomen. "I couldn't sleep."

"What was it, this time?" Although she's angry, angry at him for not coming to her and angry at herself for continuing to try anyway, her tone is soft when she speaks.

"It doesn't matter."

The anger, already barely suppressed, flares in her chest. "That's not fair, Zuko."

When he doesn't reply, Katara plows on, abandoning her usual sensitivity. "Why won't you ever tell me what you dream of? What nightmares haunt you? What damned thing brings you to this mirror almost every night? Do you think that I can't take it?"

She's by his side now, and he can feel the edge of her robe fluttering against his elbow. "Because you know what I _can't _take? I can't take this, your _silence_. The rest of it I can deal with, the rest of it I can _help you with_, if you'd let me."

Still, he doesn't reply.

"There's something wrong with me." She says this slowly, with the tone of someone who's finally come to accept something. "That's why you won't let me in. There's something wrong with me."

"Azula," he says, so swiftly that Katara wonders if she imagined it. "It's... it was Azula, this time. We were out in the courtyard, and... I didn't get to you fast enough. I lost you."

Katara's eyes burn. "I'm sorry."

Zuko finally turns to her, though his head is still lowered; tentatively, he places his hands on the small of her back and pulls her in.

"You didn't lose me," Katara whispers.

"I know." A pause. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect."

Katara shakes her head, mutely; her hands trace the scar on the tender place between his chest and his torso, just as he was doing when she walked in.

"If I could have got to you a little earlier, I could have healed it better. If I had, maybe there wouldn't be any nightmares." She bites her lip. "Maybe I could..."

"No." He lays his hands atop of hers, and when he speaks, his tone is full of finality. "I'm proud of this one."


	4. Hotpants

_A/N: _No prompt here.

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Her chocolate hair, spread upon the crimson pillowcase, gleamed in the candlelight. Zuko idly fingered a stray curl, rubbing the silky strands between thumb and forefinger.

"Won't you ever stop doing that?"

Zuko, already half-asleep, started out of his brief doze at the amusement in her voice. "Doing what?"

"That." She jerked her chin. "With my hair."

He let a half smirk grace his face. "No." His fingers continued their work, losing themselves in her mass of wavy hair. He loved her hair; its color, its texture, the wild way it framed her face, as though possessed with her very spirit. He loved it most when it was loose and long, though, cascading down her back. Katara had once casually mentioned cutting it while they were preparing for bed, and Zuko, caught by surprise, knocked over an antiquated vase. He recalled the incident with a grimace.

"You kept your promise, though."

Katara turned her head at the drowsy murmur. "What promise?"

"That promise you made a week ago," he said. "When I was combing your hair. Remember?"

"Of course." She smiled. "You wanted me to do it, so I did."

Her blue eyes sparkled up at him, trusting. She loved him too much, he feared. The realization would strike him at odd moments of the night, and it did so now.

And he'd never do enough to deserve her. He feared that as well.

"Do you _like_ wearing your hair loose, though?" He didn't know why it bothered him so much- it was an insignificant matter, really. But he didn't _want_ her to wear her hair down, no matter how much he liked it; not unless she wanted to.

"Sure." Her shoulder moved in a small shrug. "It's a little hard to manage, but it's nothing big."

"But-"

"Let it go, Zuko." Her voice was soft. She _knew_ him, even now. "Do you want to go to the Crimson Garden?"

"We never get any sleep in the Crimson Garden…" Zuko's mind filled with vivid images of what they_ did_ do in the Crimson Garden. He shook his head to clear it. "And I have meetings early tomorrow."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "You're no fun, Hotpants."

His hand returned to her hair. "Why do you call me that?"

"What?"

"Hotpants."

She smirked, her fingers creeping towards the edge of the sheet, underneath which Zuko lay as naked as she. "You know why."

"Really, though."

The beginnings of a smile graced Katara's features, and Zuko knew by that gleam in her eye that she wouldn't answer until she'd dragged the reason for his question out of him. "Why do you want to know?"

He sighed, though it was tainted with a smile of his own. "I just do."

"You never asked before."

"Come on, now, 'Tara."

The smile withered from her lips, her lashes swooping down to cover her eyes. "Because it's silly." She bit her lip. "And… I think you need some of that, time to time. You never really had a childhood.. and.. while I can't give you one, I can give you a nickname." Her eyes met his. "Everyone deserves a nickname."

Something in the cavity behind Zuko's ribs melted. "Let's go to the Crimson Garden."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes."

"But… your meetings."

"I don't care." He could already feel himself aching for her, wanting her. "Let's go right now."

"Oh?" Katara's tone, as Zuko rose and quickly donned a black robe, was both inquiring and playful. "No Fire Lord tonight?"

"No." Zuko moved to her side of the bed, draping a silk robe over her shoulders. "No Fire Lord tonight."

And there wouldn't be. Zuko lifted her into his arms, her sporadic laughter filling his ears. Tonight, he would indulge. Tonight, he would love her, and there would be nothing more important than that. Tonight, he wouldn't be a king robbed of his youth, but a child rediscovering it.


End file.
